


Start a New Fashion (Wear Your Heart on Your Sleeve)

by pastelfeathers



Series: pastel's dreamnoblade works [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Enchanted (2007) Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Crack, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29571738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelfeathers/pseuds/pastelfeathers
Summary: “This,” Technoblade says darkly, “is why we don’t help others Tommy.”Tommy chitters at him.Because he is now a racoon.A very real, and horrifyingly fluffy, racoon.Techno stares at him.Tommy stares back, before holding out his paws and making a grabbing motion.Techno, after a second of consideration, hands him the records.Enchanted AU
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: pastel's dreamnoblade works [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2185617
Comments: 113
Kudos: 624
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [babylearnedtoread](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylearnedtoread/gifts).



> Er, this was supposed to be a fun drabble on the side but has somehow become almost 7k of pure random crack.
> 
> Gifting this to the lovely Ao3 user who came up with the idea. Also presenting this to everyone on the dnb discord who gushed about this AU with me (without your respective interest, I probably would have just waited and hoped for someone else to write it). 
> 
> I saw this mentioned on a few other stories so pointing out quickly that this is a work of fiction (not at all intended to reflect the actual creators themselves) so please treat the creators with respect and do not share this with them.

“This,” Technoblade says darkly, “is why we don’t help others Tommy.”

Tommy chitters at him.

Because he is now a racoon.

A very real, and horrifyingly fluffy, racoon.

Techno stares at him.

Tommy stares back, before holding out his paws and making a grabbing motion.

Techno, after a second of consideration, hands him the records.

Tommy chitters gratefully at him, then makes louder, progressively more agitated noises when he realizes that his claws are scratching the expensive records.

“Why.” Techno manages, turning to stare at Dream, not bothering to phrase it as a question. Mostly because he’s not even sure what the question is, he feels like everything has been spinning out of control ever since they encountered Dream two nights ago, trying to pry open an image of a door on a makeshift billboard adorned with the image of a castle.

It sounds _insane_ even in his mind.

Dream shrugs airily at him, lounging comfortably on the couch and looking obliviously uncaring of Techno’s mental anguish. “He said I couldn’t.”

“I, what, he’s sixteen, of course he would-” Techno takes in a deep breath and tries a different tactic, “aren’t you a fairytale prince? Why would you do this to small children? This does not seem like very princely behaviour. I would go as far as to say this is the opposite of that.”

“Eh,” Dream smiles at him, and Techno is promptly reminded that yes, right, that’s why Dream is a prince.

He’s stupidly, disgustingly handsome.

“Are you still upset?”

“Am I still upset,” repeats Techno slowly, he looks over at Tommy.

Nope.

Still a racoon.

“Yep,” Techno bites out, “still upset. Imagine that. You turned the only living thing I am responsible for into a pest-”

Tommy hisses and tries to claw at Techno’s pants, his very expensive suit pants, forcing Techno to dodge the attempts by stepping away.

“-no you stop. You are a pest. Racoons are pests Tommy. You think someone’s going to adopt you if I put you into the shelter? Yeah exactly, you’re no adorable kitten, we both know what would happen to you.”

Techno pauses when he realizes he lost his point, mostly because he can see Dream’s shoulders shaking. “Stop laughing,” he snaps, flushing slightly in embarrassment, “this is your fault you know. What am I going to say when Child Services come by? Heh?”

Tommy is making frantic gestures at him and making high pitched squeaking noises, which only serves to highlight the issue.

“You can say he went on a trip,” Dream suggests before he throws his head back and laughs, his frustratingly gorgeous face framed perfectly by the warm glow from a nearby lamp and his blond hair suddenly lit up with a golden halo.

Techno stares at the lamp suspiciously.

He is absolutely certain the lamp had a white light bulb.

So he has no idea how it’s producing such complimentary mood lighting.

“Are you changing light bulbs?” He accuses Dream, “is this your masterplan? To change all the light bulbs so they’re cast off flattering lighting?”

Tommy freezes.

As does Dream.

Techno, belatedly realizing the implications of what he said, reddens. “No,” he denies hurriedly, “wait no, I’m just pointing out facts. Wait, no, why are you standing up. No.”

Techno backs away slightly when Dream moves closer, then pauses when he sees Dream open his mouth and open his arms. 

“Do not sing,” Technoblade warns, he jabs a finger at Dream, “I mean it, do not, I repeat, do not do it. I will end you. I will set machinations into place so that all your future children shall become orphans. Do you hear me.”

Dream raises an eyebrow, not at all intimidated, and takes another step forward, “sometimes, the world seems against you.”

All the lights within the flat shut off, except for the still orange light lamp.

The traitor.

“You absolute madman, stop,” begs Techno.

Dream aims a roguish grin at Techno, close enough that Techno can see the man’s freckles. “The journey may leave a scar,” he sings quietly, holding Techno’s gaze for a second before abruptly turning and bending down and grabbing a hold of Tommy, “but scars can heal.”

Tommy squirms in his hold, tiny paws scrambling to get out of the grip and teeth flashing as he attempts to bite Dream.

_Atta boy,_ Techno thinks fondly.

Dream glares down at Tommy but his voice is just as lovely when he sings next, “and reveal just who you are.”

A shower of sparkles begin to rain down from, well, the ceiling.

Techno winces and throws his arms up to protect his eyes when the sparkles grow in volume and intensity until the darkened flat is buffeted by a hurricane of glowing white glitter, all of which seem to center on Dream, effectively blocking the prince and the racoon from Techno’s gaze.

“Yes!” comes a sudden gleeful shout, “bloody hell, I am so so glad to be back. You utter dickhead. Oh my God, I can swear again, fuck yeah!”

Tommy, no longer a racoon, beams at Techno from the carpet, where he’s hugging his precious records to his chest.

Techno glares at Dream.

“You’re fixing the lights.”

\---

Techno is not angry.

He loves waking up at 6 am in the morning on a Sunday.

“It won't take long when there's a song to help you set the pace,” comes Dream’s voice, muffled to a degree by the door.

Techno groans and buries his head under a pillow, determined to go back to sleep and let the maniac living in his flat to do whatever it is that fairytale princes do at the ass crack of dawn.

“And as you sweep the room, imagine that the broom is someone that you love.”

A yelp and a crash.

The singing stops.

Techno sighs into his pillows and considers suffocating himself.

It would be a peaceful end, he concludes solemnly, but not very dignified, not if he’ll be discovered in his pink boxers which are adorned with little cartoon pigs with adorable crowns. Still, if the alternative was to get up and face the day when he’s still bone-weary, then perhaps it would be a worthy trade-off.

“Technoblade,” shouts Tommy, jumping onto the bed and on top of Techno with a shriek, “oh my God, you have to wake up, holy fuck, it is amazing. Dream is crazy, that mad bastard, oh-”

“Tommy please,” Techno mumbles out, pulling the pillow away enough to be able to glare at his ward. “I beg of you,” he says sincerely, “get the fuck out.”

“Wow.”

Dream whistles from the door, where he’s leaning against the frame, all lean lines, tanned skin and soft smirk. 

He really is very handsome.

Techno mentally slaps himself.

You are not a princess, he reminds himself sternly, get a hold of yourself good sir.

Something flies past Dream’s head, then turns around in a messy display of uncoordinated wing movements, coos and lands on his shoulder.

Techno squints at the gray blob.

“Is,” he starts then sighs, “why is there a pigeon on your shoulder.”

Dream shrugs. “Some of us have friends.”

Which.

Unfair.

Techno has friends.

Maybe.

Whatever.

He’s the VP of Finance at a large Fortune 100 company.

He doesn’t need friends.

“Okay fine, you cretins,” he eventually says when it becomes apparent that neither of his unwelcome visitors appear interested in leaving. “If I get up,” he begins carefully, “no, better yet, how many of your friends are in the flat?”

Dream pretends to think.

Techno knows he’s pretending because the bastard is smirking again and tapping a finger against those plush pink lips, and not adopting that confused puppy dog expression he gets when he’s genuinely thinking something through.

Seriously, Techno reprimands himself, what is wrong with you, he’s a _fairytale prince_. There’s probably a very beautiful and kind-hearted young maiden waiting back home for Dream.

“Not that many.”

Something crashes in the direction of the kitchen.

Dream beams brightly and walks closer, waving off his pigeon friend as he does so, which leaves with a disappointed coo. Dream plops himself down on the bed as well, where Tommy, predictably, is already snoring again.

The boy can sleep anywhere.

Techno would be proud of him if it wasn’t such a useless skill.

“Why are you on my bed.”

“It looked soft,” Dream quips back, a sly grin already on his face. “Why?” he taunts, “worried about your protecting pure maidenly virtue?”

Techno gapes in outrage.

“Are all princes secretly rude like you?”

Dream rolls his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic,” he chides, shuffling closer until he’s towering over Techno.

The blackout curtains in Techno’s room spontaneously flap open, with the help of a mysterious gentle breeze, from a window that Techno is absolutely certain he closed the night before.

The same breeze ruffles Dream’s hair endearingly and a helpful beam of sunlight hits his eyes at just the perfect angle to make them appear as if they’re glowing emeralds.

Techno’s heart stutters.

“Hehhhh?” Techno gets out, “why. What is happening. Why are you doing this?”

Dream looks smug again, the asshole.

“What am I doing?”

Techno glares and tries to push the other man off.

“Are you secretly a supervillain?” he snarks, “do you secretly like men? Enlighten me Dream, should I be worried for my virtue?”

Dream tilts his head to the side, the easy smile slipping off his face.

“And if I do?”

Techno makes a noise of utter confusion as his brain short circuits momentarily.

“If you-”

“Where the north wind meets the sea, there’s a friend here, full of memory,” comes a heartbreakingly beautiful voice, singing outside the still open window.

They both freeze.

“Come my dear friend, homeward bound,” the man continues placatingly, a lovely clear tenor full of quiet sorrow.

Techno yelps when Dream scrambles up and off the bed, heedless of the fact that he nearly steps on Tommy’s hand in the process. Techno watches as Dream pushes the bulk of his upper body outside the window, somehow able to convey the sheer delight with the excited manner he’s vibrating in place, despite facing away.

“When all is lost then all is found.”

Unlike the other voice, Dream’s responding words are soft and reverent.

Not sad.

More-

_Oh._

Techno stares at the silhouette of the annoying prince he’s been fostering for the past few weeks and wonders when it was that he managed to fall in love with the man.

He’s certain he has fallen.

Because that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach can only come from the rapid realizations that:

1) he is in love with Dream, the random homeless man he’s picked up, and 

2) Dream is in turn, desperately in love with the owner of that voice.

_What a mess._

\---

“My deepest and sincerest gratitude for the kindness you’ve shown towards my friend, kind sir,” George says, smile blindingly bright and teeth so perfectly straight they may as well as be carved from ivory.

A dove lands on his shoulder and nuzzles its head against the man’s chin.

Which.

What.

Where on earth is the dove from?

Techno blinks blearily in the face of such dazzling brilliance and takes a step back. He alternates between George and the dove, unable to determine which one confuses him more.

“Yeah,” he says eventually, desperately wishing for a cup of coffee, “er, didn’t really have a choice you see. You can have him back-”

“Don’t be so cold,” Dream interrupts, sneaking up and draping a casual arm over Techno’s shoulder. “You can be honest and say you'll miss me terribly, in fact, I'll help you by saying I shall miss you too, dear friend.”

Techno makes a noise, aware that his face is immediately flushing in response to the other’s proximity.

George’s eyebrows are rising.

“Friend?”

“No-”

“Yes,” Dream says breezily, “you showed me hospitality when I was in need. You took me into your bed-”

George’s mouth falls open.

“Wait, no-”

“-and even complimented my features,” Dream concludes smugly.

Techno’s heart stutters.

You are a ruthless business man, he reminds himself hopelessly, you are the man who single handedly brought down three rival firms and crushed enough takeover attempts to be called the Blood God. 

You will not let this smart-ass prince get the best of you.

Dream bats his eyelashes at him.

Techno reddens.

God damn it.

“Wow,” George says, smile still stunningly bright. When he laughs, the dove on his shoulder coos lovingly alongside. “Dream, you’ve finally found your one and only! Now you can finally stop with those silly pranks of yours.”

Dream’s arm tightens briefly on Techno’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Dream replies, suddenly sounding a bit more forced than seconds ago, “indeed I have!”

Tommy, content to sit and observe previously, now perks up.

“One and only?”

“No, wait, what pranks?” Techno asks, picking up on the under current of distress in Dream's voice and finally summoning enough self-control to push Dream’s arm off. 

“One and only!”

Techno groans. 

He points a finger at Tommy’s face. “No, stop it. Do you hear me? I will let him turn you into a racoon again. I will drop you off at that animal shelter on the eastside and let them have their way with you. I’m rich, I’ll pay off Child Services if I have to.”

“Don’t deny it Techno!” Tommy is laughing now.

“I mean it. I’m a rich man Tommy, you don’t want to try me. I can pay a goon to pretend to be you for the rest of your life.”

Tommy’s face is turning red as he continues to wheeze out more snickers, “oh my God, I need to tell Wilbur, he can write you guys a song.”

“Yes!” George chimes in happily.

Techno turns to inform the new crazy addition to his life that the two current insane individuals inhabiting his flat do not need any encouragement, thank you very much. 

Except.

There’s a second dove now.

Techno pauses in horrified fascination.

Idly, in the back of his mind, Techno observes that the first dove looks a bit bitter about having to share the shoulder space.

Seriously.

Can doves look bitter?

Also, where are they coming from?

“Please no,” Techno says weakly, still staring at the doves. He gives George a tight smile, “we don’t, ah, we’re not big singers here.”

George waves a hand dismissively and steps on the coffee table, opening his arms wide. “He’s been dreaming of a true love’s kiss.” 

The bouquet of flowers on the nearby cabinet spontaneously burst into bloom.

Techno stares.

He hadn’t been aware he owned a vase, much less flowers.

“And the prince I'm hoping comes with it,” continues Dream softly, staring back at George.

Which.

What.

Techno balks when the flowers immediately droop and wilt.

It feels a bit like his heart.

“Right,” he says slowly, edging away from Dream and eying the dead flowers with trepidation. At this point, he wouldn’t put it past Dream to be able to actually physically break Techno’s heart with his weird fairytale magic.

“Dream, I’m so happy for you,” George continues earnestly. “I had often feared you to be lonely, and that perhaps your solitude has made you vulnerable to dark desires but I can see now that you were just waiting to meet your true love!”

Techno takes a second to gape at George.

Then he turns and stares at Dream, whose face is the perfect picture of pure-hearted longing and heartache.

“Okay,” he says, and backs away into the kitchen, ignoring the confused look he gets from George.

Neither Tommy or Dream notices. The former now rolling on the ground and holding his stomach in pain from the continued laughter and the latter, well, the latter appears to only have eyes for George.

Techno pauses at the entrance of the kitchen and stares down at himself.

He considers the dark red terrycloth robe and the pink cartoon pig slippers Tommy got him as a gag gift last Christmas.

Yeah, nope.

Still not a handsome brunet prince.

He looks up and proceeds to have a minor panic attack.

The mouse on top of his toaster squeaks at him, sounding concerned. It waves a crumb at him cajolingly.

Techno stares.

A pigeon, nesting happily in his plate cupboard, coos at him.

Techno takes in a deep breath, then proceeds to maneuver past the three stray cats, two foxes, a dirty looking mutt and enough mice to put on an impromptu encore of Ratatouille in order to reach his expensive Italian coffee maker.

He pours himself a very large mug of coffee.

“I am crazy.”

The mutt pants happily at him and nudges him with its nose, appearing to agree with his assessment of his own mental health.

It leaves behind a smear of slimy drool on Techno’s robe.

“Yep,” Techno says, deciding this was appropriate.

George gets pure white doves.

Techno gets an unvaccinated stray dog who appears to be bleeding from various bite wounds.

A raven lands on his shoulder.

Techno prides himself on not flinching, he does, however, tighten his grip on the mug.

“Bitter,” the raven says to him.

Techno sips carefully from the mug, and reaches down to pat at the poor mutt’s head.

“Bruh, you said it.”

\---

“They weren’t pranks,” Dream admits.

Techno looks up from where he’s trying to teach his new pet, the mutt from earlier, to sit.

“Okay.”

Dream throws him a rather disgruntled look.

Orphan Obliterator, Orph for short, pants happily and wags his tail.

Techno gives him another treat.

Orph is a sweetheart and, after an intense veterinarian session in the afternoon and countless shots and medication, is well on his way to becoming a gorgeous mixed breed retriever.

“I don’t know why I thought you might care,” Dream says tightly, head dropping down to rest on his knees.

The lights in the room darken.

Orph whines and attempts to sit on top of Techno, obviously having picked up the shift in mood and concerned from the depth of his little doggie heart.

Techno pats him gently on the head, trying not to visibly wince from the weight of having a hefty large breed dog sit on his thigh.

The lights remain dim.

“Uh,” Techno says, then grouses to himself and shifts until he’s able to hug Orph and peer around the mutt’s floppy ears.

Dream is still tucked into a small ball on the couch, face hidden behind the messy blond hair.

“They weren’t pranks,” Dream repeats, as if sensing that he now has Techno’s attention, though the words are muffled by his position.

Techno considers the situation for a moment before he admits defeat. 

Apparently he’s going to have a heart to heart about how the man he loves is in love with another man.

Yep.

His life is awesome.

“Let me guess,” he says drily, “you said you loved him?”

The light bulbs shatter with loud pops, casting the room into darkness.

Techno sighs.

Judging by the sound of it, the light bulbs in the other rooms have exploded too.

Drama queen, he thinks sourly and is about to complain when Dream is suddenly right in front of him, his kneeling silhouette barely visible in the moonlight.

“Who-” The prince swallows audibly, “I, I’m not strange.”

Strange?

What.

_Oh._

Oh boy, Techno thinks to himself.

He is definitely not the right person to be having this discussion.

“Well, you see, when a man loves a man,” he starts.

Dream makes a high-pitched noise and back peddles hurriedly. Techno bends forward to grab a hold of Dream’s sleeve when he realizes the prince was about smack into his coffee table. Only, with Orph on his thigh and Dream’s momentum, there’s a yelp, some confusing kicks to Techno’s back when Orph tries to propel himself off and suddenly he’s hovering over a wide-eyed Dream.

A perfect reversal of their position from this morning.

“Uh.”

Dream’s cheeks are slowly flushing.

“I’m not strange,” he says again, quietly, eyes slowly lidding.

Techno stares down at him, and thinks that it would be so easy to bend over the full way and kiss the frustratingly interesting blond that’s stumbled into his life. 

For one single second, he allows himself to imagine how it would feel.

Would Dream’s lips be as soft as they look? Would it feel any different to know that he would be Dream’s first kiss with a man?

But then the second is gone and Techno is reminded grimly of Dream’s face from earlier, of the open vulnerability in the blond’s expression when he looked at George.

He pushes himself up and raises a hand to rub at his face.

He’s too old for this.

“Techno?” 

Dream sounds so small that it takes a few beats for Techno to be able to breath past the sudden longing and hurt in his chest.

“Yeah,” he says roughly, unable to bear looking down.

“I loved him,” the confession is said like a curse, an admission of guilt, “Am I str-”

“You’re not.”

Techno grits his teeth when he hears the hitch in Dream’s breathing. 

He looks down.

Dream looks stunned, his eyes made a perfect shade of turquoise by the moonlight and his lovely pink mouth open in surprise.

“You’re not strange,” Techno gets out, and hopes he manages to smile in a reassuring manner at the normally confident and snarky blond for whom he’s grown to feel such a depressingly intense affection. “I promise. Your feelings aren’t any less valid because it’s for another man.”

Dream makes another noise, sounding wounded.

“You’re an asshole and a smug bastard. You’re too secure in your looks and don’t seem to realize that people might be capable of liking you for a reason other than your stupidly handsome face.” Techno internally groans, feeling like an absolute idiot but unable to stop his own tirade. “What I’m trying to say is, you are a good person, and a fairytale prince. I’m pretty sure you’re going to get your happy ending.”

“I’m not a good person,” Dream confesses in the ensuing silence, “I wanted to poison his fiance.”

Techno makes a face at the wall.

He basically poured his heart out, short of saying I love you.

And that’s Dream’s response.

Yeah.

This romance is doomed from the start.

Par for the course really.

“Did you?”

Dream shakes his head, then thunks it against the rug and closes his eyes. “No, I, I was going to,” he whispers, a tremble to his hands, “I was going to gift her a magical flower that grew in the Ender Glades, it would put her to sleep forever and nothing, not even true love’s kiss, would be able to save her.”

Techno stays quiet.

“But then I saw how happy he looked and I-”

When Dream does not continue, Techno fills in for him. “You couldn’t do it.”

Dream shakes his head again.

“You’re not a bad person Dream,” Techno assures quietly, unable to help himself when he reaches out and grabs a hold of one tanned hand. He gently rubs his thumb in a circular motion and marvels at the callouses. “The fact that you’re jealous doesn’t make you a bad person, it just means you’re human.”

Techno is concerned he genuinely is losing his mind.

He has never held onto someone’s hand and wanted to know why they might have callouses before.

It scares him how much he wants to know Dream better.

His heart seems uninterested in the fact that Dream is already in love with someone else.

A wind mysteriously picks up in the room, carrying along with it, a scattering of petals which seemed to have appeared out of thin air.

Techno drops Dream’s hand to bat away a few petals when they got too close.

Honestly.

He’s glad Dream’s had a breakthrough.

But can he do it outside.

Techno’s already had to scrub the kitchen down on his own, since his normal cleaning service doesn’t work on Sundays, he’s not keen to also have to vacuum.

“What are the chances,” Techno asks carefully, watching the errant wind circle around them like an excitable puppy, “that you can direct this wind and carry the petals outside.”

He looks down and is startled to see Dream is already looking at him, a soft grin on his face. “Why,” Dream says, almost coyly, “too romantic for you?”

Which.

Bull’s eye.

And so carelessly cruel.

Techno swallows down the hurt.

“Yep,” he says as casually as he can, “a man’s going to get the wrong idea.”

Dream’s smile widens, “oh really? Well maybe-”

“We’re back!”

They both startle.

Techno hurriedly stands up and backs away.

George and Tommy are yelping as they attempt to navigate to the living room, a hard task to do in the dark while juggling take out.

“Techno,” Dream says, still on the ground, sounding urgent, “I-”

“Dream?” George questions at the same moment, dropping the bags onto the ground with a loud crash. He hurries over and kneels down to take the same tanned hand Techno held earlier, “are you hurt? What happened?”

Which.

Why did it have to be the same hand?

Now all Techno can imagine is how Dream must be seeing the clear difference between Techno and George, having been in the same position with them both in the expanse of a few short minutes.

Techno backs away.

He feels sick.

He’s really too old for this.

He doesn't want to know how Dream finds him lacking.

When he looks up, Dream’s staring at him still.

“Dream?”

“I,” Dream whispers, looking away and forcing a smile at George, “I, I’m-”

“Tommy,” Techno says sharply when he sees movement in the corner of his eyes, “let’s go and find Wilbur.”

“What?”

“Now,” Techno grits out, unable to look at the scene in front of him much longer.

He gets it.

They’re progressive gay princes who are perfect for each other.

He just wishes the world wasn’t so heartless so as to use him as a foil to make them realize each other’s feelings.

He can’t.

Techno turns on his heel and stalks out, ripping a jacket out of the closet by the door and trying not to listen.

“I think I’m sad.”

His heart gives another pang at Dream’s confession and he freezes.

“Oh Dream.”

Out of his volition, Techno finds himself straining to, to what, hear the sounds of two fairytale princes displaying their affection for each other in his living room?

“Technoblade?”

Techno jumps.

Tommy’s watching him with a strange look on his face, Orph sitting quietly by his feet. 

Techno shakes his head and nods towards the door.

After a second of hesitation, Tommy leaves, silently bringing Orph out and Techno is left standing at the entrance. The flat door slowly swings shut behind Tommy, taking with it the light from the hallway and-

“You don’t have to be sad anymore.” 

George’s voice is tender, loving-

Techno walks into the bright hallway and slams the door shut behind him. 

He tries not to be grateful when, for the first time in forever, Tommy stays quiet the whole elevator ride down.

He does, however, pat Orph on the head when the mutt whimpers softly and nuzzles his leg.

At least Orph likes him.

\---

“Tommy no,” Techno says with a heavy sigh, shaking his head, “remember what I said before, we don’t interact with the poor.”

Wilbur, in the middle of a song, simply glares at him, then proceeds to give him the middle finger salute as soon as the song is done.

The clapping from the nearby spectators die down in confusion and Wilbur hurriedly stops to dip into a small bow from where he’s sitting on the bench.

“You’re such an asshole,” Wilbur mutters after the crowd disperses.

Techno tries for his usual grin, but judging by the way Wilbur’s peering at him, he suspects he doesn’t succeed.

Orph whines.

Techno rubs the mutt’s ears.

“What,” he grumbles when Wilbur continues to stare.

Wilbur snorts. “You tell me. Why do you look like someone’s tried to proposition you in order to persuade you into considering a merger again?”

Tommy jabs an elbow into Wilbur’s side, then hurriedly pulls the latter away for a hushed and frantic conversation. It’s made abundantly clear to Techno that the conversation is about him, what with the way Tommy keeps pointing at him and pretending to cry.

That boy is dead.

As soon as Techno gets over this temporary heartache, he’s going to petition for Dream to permanently turn Tommy into a racoon. He’ll send out an email to his executive assistant tomorrow and ask for a casting call to be sent out, for a child talent who is willing to take on a lifelong role as Tommy.

Techno grits his teeth and avoids looking at his brothers.

He’s not crying or sad.

He’s too busy plotting Tommy’s demise.

He’s going to teach the youngest that crossing Techno is not a smart idea.

Only.

Thinking about Tommy as a racoon brings to mind the image of Dream, standing serenely in a whirlwind of sparkles, looking as if he was made of starlight.

Techno puts his head into his hands.

He’s not okay right now.

He would love to go home and curl up under his blankets and maybe cuddle with Orph for a bit.

But you can’t, he thinks viciously to himself in an attempt to inflict some much needed pain, because you probably have two princes fucking in your guest room-

Orph makes a distressed whimper, and before Techno can pet him in reassurance again, the mutt is suddenly on the bench beside Techno. The dog shuffles unsteadily until he’s half sitting on Techno, leaning heavily and resting his muzzle on Techno’s shoulder.

It feels a bit like a hug.

Techno reaches up and pats Orph’s head.

“Good boy,” he acknowledges quietly.

They sit in a quiet companionable silence, and after a few minutes, Techno can pretend to forget how badly the day has gotten and just enjoy the momentary solitude.

Neither Wilbur or Tommy say anything when they come back, the former simply settling back down on his perch. He picks up his guitar again and starts plucking out a tinkling little melody, face sad.

“All those days watching from the windows,” Wilbur starts off softly, and the passersby immediately stop, “all those years outside looking in.”

Techno glares at Tommy.

He’s not sure he likes the change in the mood or the song choice.

“All that time never even knowing, just how blind I've been.”

Techno makes to stand up.

“Now I'm here, blinking in the starlight,” comes another voice, clearer, more confident.

Techno groans and tries to push Orph off his lap.

He recognizes that voice.

He has no idea why George and Dream are here, but knowing his luck, these idiots probably want to take things slow and wanted to go on a proper date.

Which.

Awesome job.

Super.

So great.

Now get him out of here.

“Orph,” he hisses, “off.”

“Now I'm here, suddenly I see,” Dream is still singing, though he sounds a bit out of breath, almost as if he ran all the way out to the park. “Standing here it's all so clear, I'm where I'm meant to be.”

Techno tries not to be too bitter when he sees George following right behind the blond.

Wilbur is launching into the chorus now.

Which.

How.

How do they all know the same song?

What is this?

Techno eyes everyone around him with an equal amount of suspicion, wondering if they were all in a plot to destroy what little remains of his sanity, pausing only when Dream stops right in front of the bench.

Even in the sparse streetlight, it is evident that Dream has been running.

Techno traces the sweat as it trails down the blond’s face, down to his neck, and wonders unthinkingly what it would be like to trace that same pathway with his tongue.

“All those days, chasing down a daydream,” Dream sings, aiming a soft smile at George.

And there goes that fantasy.

Techno resists the urge to kick Dream.

But just barely.

What an asshole.

Seriously.

“All those years living in a blur,” George responds, “all that time never truly seeing things, the way they were.”

“Okay,” Techno interrupts, when it becomes apparent that Orph is not moving anytime soon and his heart is resolutely unable to handle the sluggish bleeding it has been experiencing ever since this song started. “I’m really happy for you two,” he says, even managing to sound somewhat sincere, “but can you please take this touching duet elsewhere? Heh? Go bother Wilbur, he’s the idiot with the guitar over there.”

Dream gives him an annoyed look, dropping down on one knee in front of Techno’s bench.

Techno stares.

“Now you’re here, shining in the starlight,” Dream continues, though there’s a blush rising up his cheeks, “Now you’re here, suddenly I know.”

For some reason, George is backing away, looking rather fond and beaming that same much too bright smile.

“If you’re here, it's crystal clear,” Dream croons out, reaching out to grab Techno’s hand, “I'm where I'm meant to go.”

Out of habit, Techno slaps Dream’s hand away.

Even so, the crowd burst into excited whispers.

His heart is thumping.

“What,” Techno swallows hard, “what is this.”

Dream rolls his eyes, as Wilbur and George break into the chorus again in the background. “What do you think?”

“I-”

Techno freezes when he hears awed gasps, and can only watch in panic when flickers of what appear to be candle lit lanterns suddenly appear in his peripheral vision, casting a warm orange glow to Dream’s damnably handsome face.

How does everything in the universe always seem to conspire together to grant the blond the best lighting regardless of the location?

“What is this,” Techno asks again, past the roaring of his heart.

Dream huffs, sounding genuinely put out now. “Why do you have to make this so hard,” he grumbles, “I’m-”

“Bitter.”

Techno does flinch this time, but manages to cut off his surprised shout when, what must be, the same raven from earlier lands on his shoulder again.

Dream’s eyes are widening.

“Bitter,” the raven says again, but its voice is strange, it sounds almost human. The way an old lady might sound if she lived off of smoking tobacco her whole life and nothing else.

“Technobla-”

The world fades to black.

“Bitter.”

\---

Techno doesn’t know when he stopped believing in love.

Or no.

Yes he does.

It was probably somewhere after his third boyfriend left him, after publicly storming into his firm and throwing a cup of coffee on his shirt in front of the Board of Directors.

That had been a fun day.

Their stocks tumbled that day, as rumours ran amok about his supposed heartbreak, happily perpetuated by his ex-boyfriend who was only too willing to spin more tales in exchange for payment.

_A life goes by_

Techno freezes. Before he comes alive and spins around, wondering where the heartbroken voice is coming from, stopping only when he realizes that there is a small pinprick of light shimmering in the distance. 

_Romantic dreams will stop_

He hesitates for a moment, but there is nothing but darkness surrounding him so staying stationary would yield very little. He quickly sets off in the direction of the light.

And of the voice.

_So I bid mine goodbye and never knew_

The voice gets louder, the closer he gets to the light. The tune is still soft, sadness evident in the timbre of the voice when it wavers on certain notes.

_So close was waiting, waiting here with you_

The words cause a lump to rise at the back of Techno’s throat.

_And now, I know, all that I wanted was to hold you_

The light is coming from a door.

He stops a few feet away and stares down at the raven.

It stares evenly back at him.

_So close to reaching that famous happy end_

“What are you,” he asks, but his voice is distorted. It sounds as if he’s speaking under water and he’s about to repeat himself when the raven tilts its head curiously to the side.

“What are you?” It parrots back.

“Answer me,” Techno grits out. “I am not above harming a bird.”

_Almost believing, this one's not pretend_

“Lucky I’m not a bird then,” the raven says. Its form is shifting, like water trying to escape from an overfilled balloon, bulges pushing out until the raven’s skin reaches its limit and suddenly the shape is bursting out until it settles once more in the form of a thin, severe looking lady. 

“Dream is mine.”

“Okay,” Techno agrees.

The woman stares at him, seeming a bit put out. “Okay?”

“I mean, bruh, what do you want to say?”

The woman looks increasingly more befuddled. “You,” she starts then growls, clenching her hands into fists, “this is a trick. He is mine!”

“Heh? Look,” Techno tries, “I honestly don’t care.”

“What?” The woman reels back, a sneer on her face, “I was right, no one loves him more than I do-”

Techno can’t help the growl at that. “Shut up,” he snarls out darkly, “look, I know where you come from, it’s romantic to say someone is yours. But in a non-shitty fairytale world, we use words to communicate and don’t claim to own our significant others.”

The woman glares at him, mouth pinched.

“So let me make it clear, you can pretend to own Dream all you want.” Techno shrugs airily, “at the end of the day, he is his own person and I’m not about to fight some lunatic who can’t realize that. Besides, your black dress?”

The woman looks down.

“Yeah,” Techno snarks, “pretty sure only villains wear black. So good luck, think you’re going to need it if you think you can land yourself a fairytale prince dressed like that.”

_Now you’re beside me, look how far we’ve come_

The woman is trembling.

“I was going to be merciful,” she admits, then aims a tight, brittle smile at Techno, “but I’ve changed my mind.”

Techno snorts.

Why must villains always talk so much?

“I curse you,” she spits out, sensing his disrespect, “may you sleep for an eternity, and only wake when all those that you love are long gone from the world.”

_So far_

Techno is falling again.

“Good luck, think you’re going to need it if you think you can get out of my curse when you don’t even understand what it means to love someone.” She’s parroting his words back to him, but it sounds as if its passing through glass, distant and vague.

_We are_

He is floating.

Mindless.

_“Do you wish you never met Dream?”_

Techno is not sure if that’s his own thoughts or if that’s a question from the universe, but since he’s doomed to sleep for an eternity, he gives it the proper time it deserves and slowly thinks it through.

Since meeting Dream, Techno has felt a pain deeper than anything he’s felt in the past for his previous boyfriends.

But the pain is intermingled with the joy and the awe.

Flashes of Dream surrounded by sparkles, of Dream’s lovely face lit by the sunlight, of holding his calloused hand, of being secretly amused by his antics when he turned Tommy into a racoon-

No, Techno admits to the inquirer, I would never wish that.

_So close..._

\---

“Technoblade!”

Techno stirs from where he’s been resting but doesn’t open his eyes, trying instead to burrow back into the warmth. He doesn’t want to wake up yet. It’s loud and he’s not sure why people are shouting, besides, his pillow is pleasantly comfortable and smells a bit like the forest after a storm, it smells a bit like Dream actually-

He jots upright and almost hits Dream on the chin.

“Dream?”

“Fuck,” Dream breathes out, eyes rimmed in red, “I thought, you didn’t, God, you didn’t wake up.”

Techno tenses when Dream tugs him close and crushes him into a desperate hug.

“I love you.”

“Heh?” Techno asks, patting at Dream’s shoulder, “bruh, stop, I think I’m hallucinating, did I hit my head when I went down?” He stares at the myriad of floating lanterns in the sky and muzzily think to himself that they look a bit like fireflies if he tilts his head the right way.

“I love you,” Dream repeats quietly.

Techno waits.

There is nothing.

No doves.

No flowers.

No wind.

“I don’t think you do,” he says with a calmness that he doesn’t really feel.

Dream grabs onto his arms and pulls Techno out of the hug, but thankfully not off of Dream's lap. 

“What?” Dream's mouth is open but the furrow in his brows signals the impending shift from shock to anger.

Techno shrugs, trying for casual. “Well,” he points out, “allow me to explain. Since you’ve crashed into my life, no, don’t deny it. Since you have crashed into my life like the walking magical disaster that you are, you have done nothing but prove to me that you are incapable of experiencing any emotion without inciting some sort of fairytale event so-”

Techno shuts himself up.

Because, in the distance, he is stunned to see a flock of seagulls.

Or, he squints at the blobs a bit longer.

No.

Retraction.

Swans.

That is a ballet of pure white swans flying towards them.

In the shape of a heart.

Techno opens his mouth, ready to deny the reality barreling towards him at lightning speed, except, he has no idea where to start.

And before he can sort out his thoughts, the swans are upon them.

“Are,” he says faintly, “are they dropping roses around us?”

Dream is wearing his smug expression again. “Depends,” he replies, pulling Techno closer until all Techno can see are his eyes and the smattering of freckles on his nose. “Is it going to give you the right idea this time?”

Which.

Techno grits his teeth.

What a smug, insufferable asshole.

What a stupid, attractive bastard.

Which is, apparently, exactly Techno’s type.

He kisses Dream.

Then tries not to blush too much when the swans immediately burst into sparkles and cocoon them in a whirlwind of light and petals.

“Oh my God,” he says once they break apart, “is it always going to be like this?”

Dream looks momentarily dazed, before he’s throwing his head back and laughing that raspy wheezing laughter that means he’s truly amused.

“Why don’t we find out?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the lovely Thornwood on the dreamnoblade discord who suggested Wilbur getting very into the sing-offs (and maybe out doing George and Dream). I tried, I don't know what happened. D:
> 
> (And for Blue_Moon08, Tommy joining in but probably not in the way you likely imagined, opps.)

“I will disown you,” Techno mutters from the side.

He’s trying and failing to pretend he doesn’t know anyone present at the park this afternoon, a task made rather difficult by the fact that Dream keeps insisting on drawing him into the sing off between George, Wilbur and Dream. 

It had absolutely been a mistake to tell Dream and George that Wilbur is planning to do a short busking session.

“No,” Techno refutes, dodging another attempt from Dream to tug him close, “stop it. Bruh, down boy, I am not going to be part of your-”

Dream pouts, before a sly smirk sneaks its way onto his face and he starts yet another song. “Did I abuse you, or show you disdain?”

Wilbur’s previously peppy strumming turns soft and suspenseful.

Curious passersby are slowing down, some are taking out their phones.

“Nope,” Techno says, backing away, aware that he’s not dressed in his usual suit and therefore, can probably duck into a crowd of nearby park goers and blend in perfectly. He shifts to do just that, except Dream, being the asshole he is, takes advantage of his momentary distraction and grabs a hold of Techno’s hand.

“Why do you run from me?”

“Heh? What, let go,” Techno hisses, slapping irritably at Dream’s hand, “some of us have to work in this city and have a reputation to maintain.”

Dream gives him an exaggerated look of sadness, widening his eyes to an impossible degree and-

What.

How.

Why is it raining?

Techno looks up and scowls at the wispy rain clouds that are suddenly hovering over the central square of the park.

He then turns the scowl on all the gaping pedestrians, especially the women who are staring dreamily at Dream.

“If I should lose you, how shall I regain the heart you have won from me?” Dream continues in a pitiful voice.

A mist rolls in and blankets their feet, in line with Wilbur’s soft playing in the background.

Techno flounders and tries to back away, except before he can, there is an answering voice so loud that Techno automatically flinches closer to Dream.

“Agony! Beyond power of speech,” George belts, leaping gracefully onto a nearby water feature, a historic marble fountain decorated with little angels.

“Don’t,” Techno starts to warn, except it’s too late, Dream’s leaping onto the water feature beside George.

Techno’s right eye twitches when Dream spreads his arms wide and, somehow managing to catch on his shirt buttons with his movement, rips the damn thing open to reveal his chest.

Someone squeals in the background.

“When the one thing you want,” Dream bats his ridiculously long lashes at Techno, “is the only thing out of your reach.”

“Forever out of your reach after this,” Techno quips back. He starts to back away when the pair step into the water, the rainclouds following them happily.

“Agony!”

Techno nearly bites his tongue when Wilbur’s clear voice rings out loudly behind him.

“Far more painful than yours,” Wilbur continues with a pointed look at the two princes posing dramatically in the fountain. 

Dream rolls his eyes, which Techno finds hilarious, as if any of them have the moral high ground in this situation. 

“When you know they would go with you,” Wilbur croons sadly, “if there only were doors.”

“Wait, what,” Techno asks, parsing through the words. “What kind of song is this? And seriously, how do you all know the words?” He asks plaintively, groaning in embarrassment when Wilbur also gets into the fountain.

The music swells.

Techno blinks.

He looks at the guitar Wilbur’s left on his bench.

It’s sitting innocently, completely still.

And yet.

There is still music, growing into a crescendo as the three idiots in Techno’s life collectively rip their shirts open.

“Oh, the torture they teach!”

Someone faints.

Techno holds up his hands as a makeshift shield when Dream leaps out of the fountain, looking stupidly attractive with his half open and wet shirt clinging to his chest, and starts advancing towards Techno.

“You will be celibate for the rest of your life,” Techno threatens. “Do not come near me. Do you hear me.”

“Am I not sensitive,” Dream starts, a smug grin spreading across his face, “Clever, well-mannered, considerate-”

“Modest,” Techno deadpans, still backing away, belatedly realizing he’s backing into a crowd, all of whom have their phones out and recording. He grimaces and ducks his head, hoping he can escape with some of his dignity in place when Dream grabs a hold of him.

He lets out a gasp when he’s dipped.

Like a princess.

Dream is dead, Techno decides, he’s going to kill the man and hide the body.

Hell, forget hiding, Orph will probably like a snack.

Dream is still singing, but it’s softer now, more intimate. “-passionate, charming, as kind as I'm handsome?”

His hair is dripping and there’s still droplets of water trailing down his face from the rain.

Techno swallows hard.

“Do you know how the song ends?” Dream asks in a purr, bowing so he’s whispering into Techno’s ear.

“Me breaking up with you?”

Techno chokes on a gasp when Dream nips at his neck in retaliation.

“No.”

Somewhere in the background, Wilbur and George are still singing, their voices intermingling and rising in intensity as the song continues on. Techno would be watching in interest alongside the many befuddled onlookers if Dream wasn’t still so distractingly close.

“You going to let go of me anytime soon?”

“Oops,” Dream says in a faux innocent manner, “is your bad back hurting you again?”

“I will kill you in your sleep,” Techno says blandly back, eyes hard, “I’m only two years older than you, you harebrained pretty boy.”

“So you do think I’m pretty?”

Techno grimaces, feeling a flush creep up his neck.

Damn his skin for being so pale.

The song is ending.

When Techno cranes his head to look, he’s dismayed to see Wilbur on the top of the fountain, swinging to the side dramatically and precariously holding onto an angel’s head.

By contrast, George is mournfully kneeling in the fountain water, hands up in the air as he belts out the last of the lyrics.

Techno hadn’t realized it was possible to outdo a fairytale prince in garish displays of human emotions.

But then again.

He has a sense of shame.

Please break, Techno begs.

If there’s a deity above, please break the small statue and have Wilbur hit his head on the way down.

It’s not too extreme a wish.

Wilbur cannot win this sing-off.

He will be unbearable.

Techno’s already hearing songs consistently at home.

He cannot also hear songs throughout family reunions as well.

“-though it cuts like a knife,” Dream is singing again but thankfully, he also pulls Techno up so he’s upright. 

Techno will never, ever admit it.

But yes, his back had been hurting a bit.

He blames the long nights hunched over a laptop.

Only, before he could express some form of gratitude, Dream drops to one knee and takes careful hold of Techno’s left hand.

A gentle wind picks up.

Doves erupt from the trees.

The clouds rapidly dissipate and leave behind a rainbow.

Rose petals are suddenly flying about in the air.

One smacks Techno on the cheek.

He picks it away with the hand Dream’s not holding onto.

He stares at it.

Then he stares down at Dream.

“I must have him to wife.” 

The song ends.

The crowds erupt into screams when a racoon runs up to them and holds up a small delicate box, which cracks open to reveal a gorgeous ring.

Dream is still on his knee. He’s smirking but Techno can feel how his hands are trembling, a betrayal of the prince's true anxiousness.

“Well?”

Techno sighs.

“One question first.”

Dream throws him a slightly put out look but nods reluctantly.

“Why is Tommy a racoon again?”

“Seriously? I’m proposing and this is what you want to focus on?”

Tommy chitters and makes little go on movements with his paws.

“Yes, you simp, I hope you know you ruined my proposal plans,” Techno says, rolling his eyes, “you are never going to hear me sing now-”

The rest of his words are interrupted when Dream shoots up and presses a hard kiss to his mouth.

The doves begin to fly in heart formations in the sky and the rainbow erupts into a cloud of colourful glitter.

To his dying day, Techno will deny smiling into their kiss.

Just another day really.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the lovely HalcyonTerror on the Ao3 who requested for more raccoon shenanigans with racoon!Tommy. This ah, this probably is not what you had in mind, but the little plot got away from me (as usual). ^^;
> 
> I am still on and off thinking about this AU so will probably fulfill some of the other comments in due time. c:

“No,” Techno says, head in his hands.

The day has been incredibly hectic. It's half past three in the afternoon and he’s already tired, having had to run from meeting to meeting since he started at seven this morning and having only had a bite of a mini croissant for lunch. He has, however, had ample opportunity to fuel up on caffeine, to the point where he’s certain he’ll bleed out triple shot caramel brulee latte with almond milk if someone was to accidentally wound him.

And yes, he’s aware that caramel brulee is a seasonal syrup.

But he’s rich.

He can afford to bribe the baristas in the small Starbucks, conveniently located on the ground floor of his firm’s building, to hold a few extra bottles for his exclusive use throughout the year.

That’s how you use power by the way.

Utilize it to obtain petty privileges.

Not whatever this is going to end up being.

Techno heaves a sigh and looks up at a fidgeting Tubbo.

“How did you get past security?”

Tubbo winces, rocking back a bit on his heels. “Ah, I think, your security, I mean, I think they know me?”

“And I vouched for him,” Dream pipes up, throwing a smug grin in Techno’s direction.

Not for the first time, Techno wonders why it is that he agreed to marry the man.

“I’ll smother you in your sleep.”

“I love you too.”

It’s a sign of how accustomed Techno’s executive assistant has become to Dream’s weird magic that she doesn’t even make a noise when the empty vase displayed on her desk is suddenly filled with an artful mix of stephanotis and pink camellia flowers.

Techno watches as she carefully takes out another empty vase and picks up the newly filled one with a roll of her eyes.

“Subtle,” she remarks as she enters Techno’s office and slams the vase down on his desk, beside the existing bouquet of forget-me-nots and the vase full of red carnations, and smartly clicks out of the room on her scarily high heels.

Techno is fairly certain those heels can be classified as concealed weapons.

“You have to stop visiting,” Techno laments, “I think I’m developing an allergy to pollen.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Tubbo points out skeptically, then flinches when Techno rounds on him.

“Heh?”

“No-nothing.”

“Dear heart-”

“Don’t call me that,” Techno grouses, throwing a surreptitious look at where his executive assistant is now carefully situated once again at her desk. He inwardly groans when he catches the way her shoulders are shaking and how quickly she’s typing away on her keyboard.

Fantastic.

The nickname will be all over the company by tomorrow if he’s lucky.

If he’s unlucky, everyone will know by end of day.

Honestly, Techno has always had thick skin, but he’s sure that someday soon, he’ll just quietly perish of embarrassment.

He ruthlessly squishes down the small voice in his head that suggests he might actually be a bit pleased by all the affectionate displays.

Techno is a VP of Finance.

He is not a simp.

“-we should probably get going.”

“What?” Techno looks up, surprised to see his visitors are already half-way out the door, “bruh, what, I have a meeting with-”

“It’s been moved.”

Techno stares down at the small speaker on his desk, then he looks up and gives his executive assistant a hard look through the glass door.

“Convenient.”

She smiles sweetly back at him. “Your call with Beijing at 6 pm has also been moved to 9 pm to accommodate a change in their schedule.”

“What are the chances we can move it to 4:30 pm tomorrow?” Dream asks, directing a winning smile at her.

To her credit, she does not melt into a puddle of goo or blush.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she says crisply, but there’s a hint of fondness in her tone that makes Techno immediately wary. However, before he can say anything else, Dream is forcibly dragging him away from his desk and out of his office.

Techno scrambles away from Dream’s grip long enough to be able to actually shut off his computer before he allows himself to be carried away.

“Do I need to worry?” he mutters to Dream on their way out.

He pointedly ignores the way his staff watches them.

They’re all fired, he thinks mutinously.

I’m getting an annulment, he thinks immediately after, when Dream, upon the request of a flustered intern, pauses long enough to turn around and say ‘I love you’ to Techno’s face.

His staff give loud whoops when the many empty vases on the surrounding desks are suddenly filled with an assortment of different bouquets.

“Nope,” Dream answers breezily after they moved far enough away from the still cheering staff to be heard again, “don’t think she’s interested in me.”

Which.

Techno’s not sure that’s possible.

But then again, she’s the third one he’s hired this month and he’s really quite keen to keep her.

If he has to dismiss another assistant because they end up simping a bit too much for his fiancé, HR is going to bar him from entering their department.

Techno doesn’t even question when his personal car glides smoothly into view as soon as they step out of the building.

At this point, he’s accepted that Dream’s taken over his life.

\---

“Are, are you sure?”

Techno does not react, thankfully, years of maintaining a straight face while being questioned by his Board of Directors comes in handily and allows him maintain a stoic demeanor. “Yes, can you process this immediately?”

“It’s just,” the volunteer at the animal shelter dithers, “we’re really not in the business of adopting out racoons.”

Techno does sigh now. “Can I see whoever is in charge,” he says, then adds on slightly resentfully when Dream elbows him hard in the side, “please.”

She gives them both a wide-eyed look but, thankfully, scrambles away to do just that.

“I hate you.”

“Love you too,” Dream counters cheerfully.

Techno doesn’t even flinch when the animals held in the back burst into various howls, yowls, screeches, and other cacophonous noises in celebration of Dream’s declaration.

He does, however, throw Dream a dirty look.

He suspects Dream is enjoying this a bit too much.

Dream beams back innocently.

Their eye contact is interrupted when a warmly smiling woman bustles out of the back. “How can I help? I understand there’s been an unusual request?”

Techno gives a polite nod back, immediately taking a liking the other’s brisk business-like manner. “I would like to adopt a racoon please.”

She falters, and her smile slips a bit. “A racoon.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m sorry gentlemen, unfortunately, we do not allow such adoptions, racoons are to be rehabilitated and released into the wild.”

Just for a second, Techno savours the imagery of a cold, hungry Tommy, sitting in the middle of a darkened forest, hugging his tail to himself while crying little racoon tears.

It’s a _glorious_ thought.

“He’s part of our family,” Dream pleads.

Techno throws him a weird look.

“We’ve had him since he was young,” Dream continues, sounding rather breathless in his sincerity.

The fluorescent white lights start to turn a shade more orange and the soft chords of a melancholic violin tinkles delicately out from a walkie talkie strapped to the woman’s chest.

“You what?” The woman asks, confused.

Dream affects a sad mien, reaching up as if to wipe away a tear. “My fiancé rescued him when he was just a little kit, abandoned in an alley.”

The woman gives Techno a sharp look, no doubt taking into account the expensive tailor made suit and the Italian loafers.

Techno smiles weakly back at her, trying to exude Good Samaritan vibes.

She sniffs distrustfully.

“Please,” Dream concludes pitifully, “we worry and he’s not going to survive in the wild.”

Which is how, moments later, they’re standing in front of a cage.

Inside it, Tommy is sitting against the back, propped calmly against the plastic and nibbling on a piece of apple.

He chitters excitedly when he sees them, and daintily places the fruit back in his food bowl before scamping forward to the front of the cage. He makes little grabbing motions, squeezing his little paws through the metal netting successfully.

Tommy makes another happy noise and waves his arms cajolingly at them.

Techno ignores the gesture, but Dream coos and bends over to offer a hand for Tommy to grab.

Which Tommy does.

Immediately.

Then speedily brings Dream’s finger close enough to bite down on it.

There is a shocked gasp as the woman in charge of the shelter tries to push forward and step in.

“Enough,” Techno says sharply, “Tommy, release him. Dream, stop provoking him.”

Both promptly do as told.

“Apologize,” he commands them both curtly, unable to believe he cancelled two meetings for this nonsense.

“Sorry,” Dream mutters, and Tommy makes a series of low chattering noises in response.

The woman is staring at Techno now, her mouth hanging open slightly.

Techno takes out his wallet and withdraws a business card, which he brusquely shoves into her slack hands. “Give my executive assistant a call, she’ll send over the relevant information and payment.”

That done, he steps closer and unlatches the cage.

Tommy quietly comes out and scampers up his arm until he’s perched securely on Techno’s shoulder, hugging his little racoon arms around Techno’s neck in order to hold on.

The woman’s face is turning red.

“Good day.”

Techno maintains his impassive expression until he’s back in the car, then he gently tugs Tommy off of his shoulder and holds the younger up by the scruff of his neck fur.

“Dead,” he promises darkly, “do you hear me. Seriously, did you even go to school today?”

The desired effect of his threat is completely negated by Tommy disappearing into a poof of smoke, from which the actual teenager emerges, laughing with tears in his eyes. Dream is wheezing in the adjoining seat and Tubbo, sitting upfront, is trying to hold back a smile.

“Where to?”

Techno stares at the unphased look on his driver’s face for a few seconds, an indication of how bizarre his life has become in recent weeks that seeing his young charge transforming from a raccoon into a human barely even phases his staff, before he gives in and slumps back into the leather seat.

Might as well as embrace the madness, he’s definitely not going to be able to focus on work now.

“Take us home.”


End file.
